


By Chance

by Joel7th



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Brief mention of animal cruelty, Collars, Humor, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Isaac is also Alucard's brother, Kid Dracula is Alucard's brother, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Slight OOC, Vampire!Lisa, side Dracula/Lisa, side Trevor/Sypha, teenage Alucard, teenage Hector, teenage Sypha, teenage Trevor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23052514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joel7th/pseuds/Joel7th
Summary: Modern AU where humans, vampires and some other night creatures lived together in peace. Vlad “Dracula” Ţepeş was still the vampire monarch and his presence was required at many vampire social gatherings. However, Vlad asked his son, Adrian, to come to one such gathering on his behalf. Dragging his best friends Trevor and Sypha with him, Adrian grudgingly attended the party and expected to while away the time until it was acceptable to leave. He didn’t expect to see an old face there, one that (still) caused little butterflies in his stomach despite all those months.
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Hector, Alucard/Hector (Castlevania)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 48





	1. Adrian

“That’s practically bullying, Dad,” Adrian groaned. “No other way to put it, just bullying in its simplest form. Stop pulling my hair, Junior, or I’ll never pick you up or let you ride my shoulder again!”

Sitting on the crook of his arm, Adrian’s little brother — Vlad Jr. — laughed and hiccupped, and then hiccupped while laughing. “Adrian hair soft. Tug, tug.”

“You’re being dramatic, Adrian,” Vlad said, watching his sons with exasperation and fondness in equal measure, the former with the teen and the latter with the toddler. “It’s not bullying if it allows your burnt-out parents to get their much-needed vacation.”

“It’s bullying when you dump it on me on such short notice and I’ll have to cancel all my plans for that night so you could sunbathe in Rio.”

“Moonbathe, dear,” Lisa corrected. “It’s been centuries since we last had a trip to the sea, hasn’t it, Vlad?”

“Mom, you were turned after Junior’s birth, which was literally three years ago. Before that you and Dad traveled on a monthly basis, and more often than not left me and Isaac to fend for ourselves with a bunch of cooks and housekeepers.”

“Aw, Adrian, you know all those travels were for business, not pleasure. Isaac was never mad at us, right, Isaac?”

In a plush armchair before the fireplace, Isaac lifted his face from the thick volume he was devouring just long enough for a “Never, Mom”.

Adrian shot his brother’s direction a dirty look, silently fuming about the infuriating fact that Isaac and himself had never been able to put on a united front. Siblings were supposed to be on the same side, weren’t they? Then again, his parents always praised their adopted son for his maturity beyond his age with an implication that Adrian should follow Isaac’s example.

“Point is, Adrian, we need this vacation,” Lisa said, voice soft and silky as she patted Adrian’s forearm. “We haven’t gotten out of the city since Junior was born. No, no, Mom isn’t blaming you, sweetie.” She booped Junior’s nose, making him giggle. “But raising a toddler has been tough work. Besides, it would be rude to turn down Dad’s old friend Zead. You know how hard it was for him to settle down. Once he did, he immediately sent us an invitation, and that’s why it was on such short notice.”

How and why Death had settled down in a villa by the sea was beyond him, but Adrian was thrilled he had; Uncle Zead had always indulged him during his stay at Castlevania, one of few people who had never scolded him for his brattiness or said he should be more like Isaac. Technically not a ‘person’, but Adrian could bear to look past that tiny little detail. He was, however, slightly less thrilled about Zead’s invitation, which had led to this current predicament.

So, Adrian did what every preteen, teen and post-teen did best: he sulked and whined.

“What about my plans?”

“Your original _plan_ ,” Vlad stressed, “was junk food and Netflix sans chill with the Belmont boy and the Speaker girl all Saturday night and possibly the whole Sunday. You can still do that, only with a change of venue, haute cuisine and alternative forms of entertainment.”

“They have names, Dad,” Adrian reminded him. “And I don’t think Trevor and Sypha would appreciate swapping takeouts and Netflix with several consecutive hours in a pompous vampire gathering.”

“On the contrary, dear, I think Sypha won’t pass up a glimpse into contemporary vampire culture. The girl has told me that on many occasions. Don’t worry about Trevor, though; where Sypha goes, that boy tags along.”

His mom reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out her phone. “In fact, I just texted Sypha and she said yes, plus a couple of heart emojis.”

Adrian mentally groaned, not sure whether he should be impressed or disturbed by the newly discovered fact that his mom and his best friend were texting buddies. While he was distracted, Junior grabbed a golden lock in his tiny fist and started yanking with all the strength of a three-year-old dhampir. His groan no longer mental, Adrian shook his head and barked — literal bark, like the wolf he sometimes turned into just so he could scare the shit out of his neighbor’s Chihuahua — at the boy, who in turned gave him a fang-y grin but made no attempt to let go of his hair.

“I’m not sure I’m old enough to attend,” Adrian tried again. “Isn’t that sort of event geared towards adults, like, real adults in vampire terms?”

“True, and you’re only shy of 83 years to reach the minimum age; however, they’re willing to cut us some slack, a lot of slack actually, because we are the Ţepeş.”

“And with great power comes great responsibility, which is why it should be you, Dad, to attend the event instead of having your teenage son take your place.”

“Did you just quote Spider-Man?”

“I’m surprised you know what Spider-Man is, Dad.”

“I do catch up on pop culture, you know, from time to time.” Vlad cleared his throat. “Anyway, you’re approaching 18, Adrian, and it’s only right that you start taking an active role in social affairs. Your mom and I have discussed it for some time and we’ve come to an agreement.”

“Really, Mom?” Adrian said incredulously. “I thought you disliked vampire parties with a passion.”

Lisa shrugged. “Dad and I are not big fans of these events but they’re part of our lives whether we like it or not. Come on, Adrian dear, it’s not the end of the world.”

“It’s not like you have to socialize,” Vlad chimed in. “The Ţepeş name allows us a spacious section where you can sit back and play Pokemon or whatever the entire evening.”

Adrian made a face at his father’s last comment.

“He does that all the time, texting me,” Lisa leaned in and confided. “Sometimes we even video-chat—”

“That’s enough detail, Mom,” Adrian said, deflated. He was incredibly frustrated when his parents tag-teamed because they were infernally good at it and he, unable to get an ally in his older brother, lost every damn time. He gave one last try even though surrender was already on the forefront of his mind. “But who’s gonna babysit Junior that evening?”

“I am,” Isaac replied from across the room, proving he wasn’t that engrossed in the book as he appeared.

 _Thank you, Isaac_ , Adrian growled in his head.

“You have an exam the next day. An important one.”

“I can watch Junior and study at the same time. He’s very good with me.”

_Hah, wait until he starts setting your textbooks and painstakingly prepared notes on fire; he showed me his mini fireballs the other day._

The thought of Isaac losing his cool was the only balm to his gaping wound of defeat.

“That’s settled then,” Lisa said, clapping her hands. “Thank you, Isaac.”

“Fine,” Adrian bleated. “I’ll go to the party in your place but I’ll demand an IOU.”

“Deal,” Vlad said, holding out his hand.

...

“Hold on, hold on, I can’t seem to get this eyebrow right,” Sypha cried. “Help me, Adrian.”

“If you had come earlier you could have had Lara do your makeup,” Adrian complained but took the eyebrow pencil nonetheless. “Succubi are top-notch makeup artists; my mom never goes to a formal event without her help.”

“Trevor was slow” was her reply as Sypha elbowed Trevor, who was slumping against the side of the limousine, sulking in his three-piece suit. To Adrian who was used to seeing him in washed-out Tees, ripped (sometimes unintentionally) jeans and sneakers that had seen better days, this suit looked like it had been either rented or borrowed at last minute... which was probably true. “You’d think it so easy to get a decent suit when you have many brothers and cousins,” Trevor said, “but turns out their wardrobes suck harder than your own and you have to drive to the next town to pick up your uncles’s.” He tugged lightly at the wine-colored cravat. “If I got even a food stain on this suit, he’d pluck my head off my shoulders and put it on a stake.”

“Remind me to thank Lisa for her dress,” Sypha said, then immediately clammed because she was supposed to stay still for Adrian to do his job and not make her eyebrow one of Junior’s abstract doodles. She sighed in relief when he exclaimed “Done!” Looking at her compact mirror, Sypha beamed in satisfaction; Adrian was a true professional. Eyebrows were a make-or-break element for a makeup and she knew she could always put herself in her best friend’s hand.

“OK, for the finishing touch...” Sypha drew a sign in the air with the tip of her forefinger. A tennis-sized sphere popped out of thin air and hovered above her outstretched palm, its light painting the inside of the limo a blue hue. She clenched her fist, seemingly crushing it. The light escaped through her fingers to enter both her and Trevor. “G is for glamor,” Sypha sing-sang, and turned to Adrian with a wide grin, flashing her pearly white teeth... _fangs_. Her rounded ears had lengthened and become pointed while her healthy complexion had dropped several shades and her blue eyes were glowing like a cat’s. On her left side, Trevor had undergone the same transformation. He turned to the window, mouth opening wide to poke his newly minted fangs.

“Very impressive, Sypha,” Adrian commented. “I didn’t know there was such a spell.”

“I have this cousin who likes hoarding all sorts of weird spells,” Sypha replied, checking her lipstick with her mirror. A darker shade would complement her new skin tone better but for now, this would have to do. “Given that we’re about to attend a non-human party, we should come prepared.”

“Speaking of prepared,” Trevor said in a confiding tone, “look what I have.” Grinning, he unbuttoned his jacket and allowed his friends an exclusive view of... the fabled Morning Star, the sight of which could send an average vampire fleeing for dear life. It was attached to his belt, beside a string of small vials containing some sort of clear liquid.

Adrian arched a fine eyebrow comically. “The Morning Star and holy water, I’m impressed. Do you happen to have salt and garlics, too?”

“Salt and garlics are cumbersome so just holy water.”

“It was rhetorical, Belmont,” Adrian growled. “Are we going vampire hunting? You should have told me so I wouldn’t have left my sword at home.”

“Relax, Adrian,” Trevor said, reaching over Sypha to pat the dhampir on the shoulder, “they’re just caution measures. I’ll bet you’d do the same if you were invited to, for example, a vampire-slaying convention.”

Adrian made a face. “There’s a vampire slaying convention? Isn’t that illegal?”

“Held annually, and us Belmonts have an honor seat. Mostly they discuss theoretical methods to destroy vampires and other night creatures if they ever had to fight one — those days of actual slaying is a thing of the past, and trade stuff. Anyway, I bring an empty belly to the party and hope to come home with a full one, not some vampire ash on my uncle’s suit.”

Adrian snorted. “The food is superb, or so my dad said. And there’s plenty since vampires don’t have much of an appetite for food so feel free to knock yourself out.”

“Oh my, they’re not going to serve us actual blood, aren’t they?”

“It’s a vampire gathering, Sypha, what do you expect? Of course there will be blood.”

“Or we can decline and ask for something else instead. I know many ‘gourmet’ vampires who only drink their own cultivated blood. We can play on that.”

“I hope they have booze.”

“We’re seventeen, Trevor,” Sypha reminded him.

“Right now we’re not,” Trevor retorted. “We,” he gestured to the three of them, “are vampires of legitimate vampire age to drink.”

“They have booze and it’s a drink-all-you-want so as soon as we’re in, nobody’s gonna ask for you ID or whatever.” Adrian threw a quick glance at the Morning Star before Trevor proceeded to button up his jacket. “Let’s hope that thing stays where it is. I just want this evening to pass uneventfully.”

...

No way this evening would pass uneventfully. Of that Adrian was dead sure.

The service man — vampire — who had clearly not been turned in his best years, gave Adrian a once-over. “I am very sorry,” he said in soft practiced voice, giving Adrian an impression of insincerity; he could already tell a ‘but’ was coming. “But I don’t seem to recognize your noble visage. May I see your invitation?”

With an air of schooled nonchalance, Adrian reached into his breast pocket and took out a gold-plated name card with two long, elegant fingers. He dropped it into the bald vampire’s waiting palm.

“I’m afraid this is not—” Whatever he was about to utter got stuck in his throat as he studied the card with bulging eyes, lifting it with both hands like some holy regalia. Adrian felt a smirk creeping up his lips. “Do I have to procure a birth certificate or is that enough for you to let us in?”

“Please forgive me. It’s just that we are so often humbled by the sheer greatness of Count Dracula’s presence.”

“My father has some business to attend to, so I’m going in his place. That’s not a problem, is it? Because he’d be quite upset if I were to go home now.”

“Of course not, Master—”

“Adrian. These two are my company, Sybil and... Treffy.” Adrian directed a smirk at Trevor, who scowled and gave him a discreet middle finger. “They’re newly initiated into the night. I hope that’s also not a problem.”

The vampire gave the widest smile his mouth allowed and bowed so deeply Adrian almost thought the tip of his beak-nose touched his shiny shoe. Quite the flexibility, he mused. “Not at all, Master Adrian. Please, allow me to show you to your private section.”

As he was about to follow the vampire’s lead, Adrian’s ears picked up some commotion at the entrance. His curiosity piqued, he turned his head to the direction of the noise. He did not at all expected what he was seeing, so it nearly knocked the breath out of his lungs. Mind blank, he stood frozen in the hallway, staring at the lean figure clad in simple white shirt, black vest and slacks. A young human, not much older than Adrian himself, probably around Isaac’s age. Red flashed before his unblinking eyes as Adrian’s gaze landed on the metal band around the young human’s neck, visible in spite of his shoulder-length silver hair. A collar, he realized grimly, which was connected to a leash. The end of the leash was in the firm grip of a vampire Adrian recognized as Carmilla.

Carmilla was no stranger to him; in fact, she had been a guest at Castlevania a few times. If there was one thing Adrian, Lisa and Isaac all agreed on, it was their instant and perseverant dislike for this vampire.

And with good reason!

“I am very sorry, madam, but you cannot bring a human inside,” a freckle-faced vampire in service uniform reasoned. “He should stay outside or in your vehicle.”

“So ‘human’ is the problem, yet I didn’t see any of you oppose when Count Dracula brought his consort in.”

“That’s because he’s Count Dracula.”

Carmilla covered her mouth and laughed. “Right, our monarch who is exempt from many rules by which the rest of us abide. Ah, but I assure you this pup here is less than ‘human’. He is my pet, a tame and well-trained one, aren’t you, Hector?”

She jerked the leash and the abrupt motion caused Hector to stumble. He made no sound, simply lowering his head, letting his hair fall and hide his face.

Adrian felt his blood rushing to his eye sockets.

“See?” Carmilla said. “It baffles me why he should not be allowed in while some other untamed pets, say, Lady Cavendish’s werewolf, are.”

“Is that a human?” Sypha’s curious voice entered his hearing and Adrian felt her presence by his side. He shook his head and lightly messaged his left temple, willing his eyes to revert to normal. “You OK, Adrian?” she asked, brushing her hand against his.

“Is something the matter, Master Adrian?”

“No, it’s nothing” Adrian answered, finding his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat, letting himself be gently maneuvered forward by Sypha.

The last he heard was the service vampire’s voice: “I’m sorry, madam, but he is not allowed into the ballroom. He will have to stay with Lady Cavendish’s werewolf and other pets from the guests.”

Carmilla’s reply was out of his earshot.

...

“Something bothering you, Adrian?” Trevor asked, balancing a plate piled up with all sorts of nibbles in his arms. Adrian would admire his ability to gather such an amount of food in such a short period if he were not still distressed about the scene downstairs.

“Is it so obvious?”

“Yeah,” Trevor answered, putting the plate on the table to gesture around his face, “it’s written all over your face.”

Adrian knew he had been brooding since they entered the semicircular room — all theirs to use until the party concluded. Although he hadn’t gotten a good look on the human’s face, Adrian would recognize those silver locks anywhere. He remembered how they had shone under the sun, and how he had wanted a chance to freely run his fingers through them without being creepy at worst and awkward at best. That chance had never come because...

Sypha’s voice broke his train of thought. “Is that because of the scene we saw earlier?”

Ever the perceptive one.

Trevor frowned, sitting down on the opposite couch from Adrian. “I’ve heard about vampires keeping human pets but I’ve never seen it in practice. Is that even legal?”

Sypha placed a couple glasses on the low table before the couch. Trevor stared at the bubbly colorful liquids and mouthed “No booze?”, to which she crossed her arms and briefly stuck her tongue out at him.

Adrian sighed. “Sadly, it’s legal if it’s consensual.”

“Can’t imagine anyone would consent to that.” Trevor picked a finger sandwich off the plate and started munching it.

“The homeless, the unemployed, the runaways... there are people who’d rather sign away their freedom than starve or freeze on the streets,” Adrian explained, thinking about the shelters his mother was running so that fewer people would have to become someone’s pet to survive. He had met Hector in one such shelter. “I know the guy who was with that vampire downstairs.”

Trevor’s jaws froze and he, together with Sypha, both turned to Adrian with enlarged eyes. Adrian found their expression comical but was in no mood to tease them about it.

“He was in one of my mom’s shelters for a while until one day he disappeared without leaving a word.”

People at the shelters sometimes did that: they just left, no goodbye, no indication of where they’d go.

Sypha blinked. Realization dawned on her, transforming her puzzled look into that of understanding. “His name’s Hector, isn’t it?” she exclaimed, balling her right hand into a fist to hit her left palm. “The guy you told us about.”

Trevor choked on his food, swallowing with some struggle. He reached for a glass, gulped and winced. “He was the reason for your ugly crying and a week or so of being an absolute recluse?”

Adrian gave him a glare and a middle finger. “I did NOT ugly cry!”

“You did,” Trevor replied, unflinching.

“You... kind of did. But it’s alright to express your emotions instead for bottling them and becoming emotionally constipated.” She jerked her chin toward Trevor, who scoffed.

“What will you do now?” Trevor asked. “From what we’ve seen, things haven’t been all sunshine and rainbows for him as that bitch’s pet, but it was his choice and you can’t do much about that.”

“I suppose,” Adrian hesitated, “I want to know... to ask him why he left... why he didn’t say goodbye.”

“Well, ask him.”

“Huh?”

“Trevor’s right. Now is a chance for you to do that. It’s not like you can barge into that vampire’s property to talk to him. Just go.”

“You guys alright being by yourselves?” Adrian asked, but already he was on his feet.

“Please,” Sypha laughed, “we’re not children.”

“By vampire standard, we’re technically babies.”

“... armed with magic, holy water and the Morning Star.” Trevor winked at him, patting his side.

“I’m literally begging you not to use them. I’d like us to leave this place without making a scene.”

...

“We’re definitely leaving this place after making a scene,” Adrian said with resolution as soon as he stepped inside and secured the door.

Approximately an hour had passed since he listened to his friends’ advice and went to find Hector.

Sypha paused her nibbling on a piece of prawn and blinked at him. “As much as I love stirring the cauldron, I want to at least know why.”

“I’m taking Hector out of here, out of Carmilla’s clutch.”

“That guy Hector?” Trevor asked.

Adrian nodded.

“That’s quite a turn of event. What did you learn from him?”

“I learned that he didn’t become her pet by choice.”

...

Adrian remembered the freckled vampire saying something about the section for the guests’ pets, and so he headed straight for that. Then it hit him that Hector was left with a freaking werewolf, Lady Cavendish’s favored pet that she was never seen without, a beast erring just on the wrong side of ferocity; maybe that was why Lady Cavendish fiercely adored it. Cursing under his breath, Adrian quickened his pace to the point it seemed he was flashing.

Adrian halted in front of a short, narrow corridor with a dead end. He lifted his chin, concentrated and sniffed the air. The door at the end emitted the damp, musky smell of unwashed fur which caused him a series of sneezes. Hell would freeze over before the hygiene standards of lycanthropes improved, Adrian thought. Once recovered, he tried again, taking in a lungful of air, and didn’t sneeze this time. Relief flooded him when he caught a whiff of sweaty scent, fortunately unlaced with the coppery tang of blood. He whipped his head around to survey his surroundings, ascertaining that he was completely alone before transforming into a white bat.

Transforming into a bat turned out to be a good idea because the door was locked. Adrian sensed no trace of magic so it was an ordinary lock he could crush with ease or break with a good old-fashioned kick, taking down the whole door in the process and likely raising some alarm... No need to be so dramatic yet, Adrian mused, and slipped through the crack between the door and the wall. It required some wriggling and squeezing but he managed.

Landing on the ground on human feet, Adrian blinked a few times. When his eyes adjusted to darkness, they scanned the rectangular space in search of Hector. He did not see a lot of pets — just a gremlin, a few bats hanging on the ceiling, peering down at him with tiny LED lights for eyes, and an off-putting cross between a feline and a bat, which yowled at him. He found Lady Cavendish’s werewolf in a corner, laying on its back and in the middle of a tummy rub, courtesy of none other than the only human in the batch. What the heck? Adrian had truly feared for Hector’s wellbeing and here he was petting a werewolf twice his size?

Hector had demonstrated an uncanny ability to communicate with any animals he came across; still, it surprised Adrian that his ability extended to a freaking werewolf.

The cat hybrid’s cry alerted the werewolf and it quickly rolled onto its paws, baring rows of teeth and growling. Adrian heard a choked gasp from Hector and saw him reaching blindly toward the werewolf. The bats on the ceilings flapped their wings as if they were an enthusiastic cheering squad.

“Quiet,” Adrian snapped in his best Dracula’s voice, followed by a vampiric hiss and eyes shining like headlights. It had immediate effect: the werewolf’s growls turned into whimpers as it cowered in terror, the bats ceased their movements and the cat hybrid curled into a tight ball, using its bat wings to cover its body. For moments the only sounds Adrian picked up were Hector’s palpitations.

There were so many things Adrian had imagined he would say to Hector when they met again, yet when they were only a few steps apart and he could see the sweat at Hector’s temples as well as hearing the barely audible sound of Hector’s hands clenching into fists, Adrian suddenly became tight-lipped. The questions he’d meant to ask were there, at the forefront of his mind, but he couldn’t seem to form verbal words.

“... Adrian?”

Hector’s voice was rusty like it hadn’t been used for some time. He brought a hand to his throat but couldn’t touch it because of the thick collar and he grunted in frustration.

“You can see me?”

“No, but I recognize your voice.” A dry cough. “I caught a glimpse of you earlier.” Another cough. “I thought it’d been a trick of light or someone looking like you.”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Haven’t talked for a while, is all.”

“Why?”

“Carmilla doesn’t like a talking pet,” Hector said with a self-deprecating smile. “I found out soon enough that not talking made my life a bit easier.”

Adrian’s chest tightened, his heartbeats picking up. “Is this how you imagined your life when you signed yourself away? Locked in a dark room for hours on end to wait for your mistress?”

His tone came out harsher than he intended. The werewolf whimpered and Hector patted its huge paw, careful to avoid the sharp claws. It opened its jaws and the urge to strike it down surged in Adrian’s chest, consequences be damned. Before Adrian did something unadvisable, the werewolf licked Hector’s hand.

“Why did you come here, Adrian?” Hector asked. Adrian saw his eyes gazing at his direction. He knew Hector, with his human vision, was unable to see him in this darkness, and yet he shuddered. “You could have gone and enjoyed the party, paying no mind to that pet who looked just a bit familiar to you. It could have been a case of looking alike.”

Adrian snorted. Hector really had no idea about the short eternity Adrian had spent staring at him, didn’t he? There was no chance he could have mistaken him for someone else.

“Why did you leave?” he asked. “Not a word left behind, not even a goodbye, like you just vanished into thin air.”

Confronted with his question, Hector remained silent for a long time. Although anticipation was a hook in his guts, Adrian willed himself to wait. Patience wasn’t his forte, especially when the space seemed to be closing on him and there was a pinprick sensation under his skin. Anxiety for the answer he was about to get, if he would get any at all. His fingers twitched, yearning to do something — grabbing Hector’s vest, punching him, touching him. He curled his fingers into his palms, mindless of how his nails might dig holes in his favorite gloves, and kept them by his sides.

He did not expect Hector’s reply to be a choked “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For being stupid,” Hector confessed, almost a whisper. “I wanted to surprise Lisa and you that I had gotten a part-time job, maybe even a sort of student loan for a decent college in town. But I never came back that evening. I couldn’t...”

Adrian’s heart stopped. It was neither hyperbolic nor metaphorical — his heart literally ceased beating and his lungs blocked out the air. The only heartbeats to enter his hearing belonged to Hector while he heard none of his own. He was stuck in that half-dead state for several moments until his self-preservation instinct kickstarted his system so his human side would not shut down. Blood rushing to his brain made him dizzy and almost nauseous.

“Adrian?”

“Carmilla took you?” His voice was hoarse, close to a growl. His wolf clawed at his skin.

“Not Carmilla herself, but her agents. Later I learned that I was just the newest addition to her collection. I had only my stupidity to blame.”

“Don’t say that,” Adrian chided him, not harshly. His fingers uncurled, and he almost reached out to touch Hector, but decided against it. He wasn’t sure Hector would welcome his touch — any touch — in his current state; it would only serve to make things more awkward between them.

“You’re not going back to her,” Adrian said, and felt that he had never been more certain or confident.

Hector’s lips parted as though he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

“You’re not going back to Carmilla,” he repeated with slightly raised volume. “Unless you want to.”

“I don’t,” Hector snapped. “What do you mean?”

“I’m taking you out of here. We’ll deal with Carmilla later, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, but tonight I’m definitely not going to leave this place without you.”

Hector looked at him like a deer caught in headlights. In the darkness, Adrian saw moisture gathering around the rims of his eyes. However, before tear fell down, he lowered his head. “I can’t leave,” he said, lifting the chain connecting his collar to the wall behind.

Adrian strode to the wall, shooed the werewolf away and crouched down. He gave the chain an experimental pull. Nothing happened whereas a normal, thicker chain would have snapped. Perplexed, he pulled harder. The chain remained tauntingly intact despite his vampire strength.

“The collar and chain are enchanted so you can’t break them. Only she can remove them with a key.”

Adrian pouted, then remembered that Hector couldn’t see his expression. “You could have said earlier.”

“You would have tried pulling the chain nonetheless.”

“Now that’s more like the Hector I know.”

He was pleasantly surprised to coax a few chuckles out of Hector. How he missed those sounds and the evenings they had spent talking in the shelter’s patio.

Hector’s chuckles ceased and he stayed very still when Adrian, looming over him, gently touched the collar. Indeed on the metal surface were some inscriptions in an old-as-Earth language exclusively reserved for magic incantations. Adrian hummed, reaching into his pocket for his cell.

Isaac picked up exactly after three rings; it was creepy sometimes, this habit of his. “Hello, brother, are you enjoying the evening?” Isaac said.

Adrian heard Junior on the other line. He felt kind of bad for not letting Isaac know about their baby brother’s mini fireballs and now his textbooks and notes were at risk — if they hadn’t been rendered to ashes yet, but he had a more pressing matter. “Can I ask you a favor? I know you’re studying but it’s super urgent.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, right now.”

“Say what you need and I’ll see if I can do anything about it.”

Adrian silently breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thanks, I owe you big time,” he said. “I need you to crack a code.”

“Sounds like my expertise.”

“That’s why I’m asking you. Also, can you be quick?”

“Send it to my email and I’ll tell you, brother.”

“It’s not a computer code but a magical code to unlock an object. Five syllables, Elochian, I guest.”

He could practically see Isaac arching an eyebrow. Magical codes to him were like a tempting piece of sudoku to sudoku-addicts, and he solved them like people did crossword puzzles at breakfast table.

After he sent the code to Isaac, there was nothing to do but wait. He sat down beside Hector, strategically arranging his long limbs so that they oh-so-innocently touched Hector’s legs. Since Hector didn’t flinch or scoot away, he deemed it acceptable to keep them where they were.

“The young man and the girl earlier,” Hector began. “Are they your friends?”

“Best friends,” Adrian replied with a fond smile and felt necessary to add, “They’re humans, by the way.”

“But how?”

“Just a little magic. You’ll be amazed how many spells Sypha has up her proverbial sleeve.”

“Nifty trick,” Hector commented, looking down at his folded hands on his laps. “She must be very talented.”

“And generally cool. I think you and her will be good friends. Trevor too, when you meet them. He’s gruff but reliable.”

Hector gave a tight-lipped smile that conveyed more sadness than any emotion. “I hope so.”

That smile produced a bony finger to prod at Adrian’s heart. In a surge of bravery he dared cover Hector’s hand with his own and gave it a testing squeeze. He felt almost giddy with relief when not only did Hector accept his gesture, he also returned it by squeezing back. “We’re getting out of here.” Adrian heard himself whisper, to give assurance to both Hector and himself. “Soon as Isaac cracks the code, I’ll break that damned thing off you.”

“Isaac... Is he the brother you once mentioned?”

“Yeah, he’s the kind of cool nerd who practices jiu-jitsu and scares the shit out of would-be bullies.”

“He sounds like an interesting person. I’d like to meet him if possible.”

“I think he’d find you quite interesting too. Your inner snarky streaks are pretty similar to his own.”

“I... I have never thought of myself as an interesting person. I’m rather dull, really.”

“That werewolf would beg to differ,” Adrian said, jerking his thumb towards the cowering werewolf in the corner and earning a chuckle from Hector. “My mother thought you were a special wee lad — her words; she spoke about you often enough that I had to come to the shelter to see for myself.”

“Lisa was always kind to me. The kindest actually.”

“She was really upset that you left.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Adrian said, sensing the need to change the subject. “I do think you’re interesting.”

Hector looked at him with eyes like an anime character. “You do?”

Adrian snorted. “I wouldn’t have seen someone for nearly half a year if I’d thought he was boring. I don’t have that kind of saintly patience, you know.”

“My first impression of you was that of impatience. Then we talked and...”

“Did that change your impression of me?”

Hector scoffed. “No, I still found you an impatient person, but tolerable, I guess. I wouldn’t have seen someone for nearly half a year if I’d thought he was intolerable.”

Adrian laughed. There it was, that easy, natural camaraderie he’d always found with Hector. At first, it had merely been curiosity. Still, the more he spent time with Hector, picking up tidbits of the young man’s life before the shelter through exchanged anecdotes and jokes, the more he wanted to know him. Days stretched into weeks and weeks into months, and before he could give meaning to the strange flutter in his stomach when thinking about Hector, Adrian had fallen head over heels for him.

There was truth in Trevor’s taunting him about ugly crying and shutting himself at home after all.

“I missed you, you know,” Adrian said.

“I missed you, too,” Hector replied. There was a quiver in his voice. “I was convinced you’d already forgotten about me.”

He knew it was not right for him to find boldness in Hector’s exposed vulnerability, but he could always muse about it and chide himself later. Right now it was very tempting to cup Hector’s face in his gloved hands and bring him closer until their lips touched.

“Adrian?” Hector sounded perplexed but didn’t protest, so Adrian counted that as a win. Closing his eyes, he was about to eliminate the last inches... when his cell rang loudly, shattering whatever atmosphere between them. Muttering a curse, he let go off Hector, who seemed to just realize how close they were and inched away.

“It’s done, brother, not quite a challenge,” Isaac gloated in his usual nonchalant tone on the other line. “I’m sending it to you.”

Despite still glowing with frustration, Adrian said, “Thanks, Isaac. Owed you big time.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve already made a list.”

“Isaac, has Junior burned anything?”

“You mean his fireballs? He showed me just now. Very fascinating. Other than singeing the comic book you lent me, he’s been an angel.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” Adrian deadpanned and hang up. He checked his inbox and found the code.

Adrian pulled his right glove off with his teeth and willed the nail of his forefinger to lengthen into a claw. A perk of being a dhampir was that he didn’t have to have his claws out 24/7; he found normal lengths much more manageable. Meanwhile Hector had sat up very stiffly.

After taking a look at the glowing screen, Adrian started inscribing the new code on the metal with his claw. He was glad it was Elochian rather than Adamic, which he’d been struggling with from the start. A small click followed as soon as he withdrew his claw, and the collar unceremoniously dropped to the floor.

“That’s kind of anticlimactic,” Adrian commented, weighing the collar in his hands.

Hector touched the sides of his neck as if the fact that the damned thing had been removed hadn’t quite sunk in yet. “I guess...”

Adrian narrowed his eyes and carve something onto the metal.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving Carmilla a ‘fuck you’ in Elochian, if she can read it.”

Hector laughed freely, first time since Adrian stepped into this pitch-black cave. How he had missed that sound.

“Dragging me with you where anyone can see is risky,” Hector said, his laughter already faded into nonexistent. “As much as I hate to say it, Carmilla’s still my owner and you will get into trouble if she catches you.”

Adrian’s eyebrows knitted as he paced so fast Hector might get dizzy if he could see. “We need a plan. For that, I need to leave you here for a while. Half an hour at most, and I’ll be back for you.”

Hector nodded slowly, hesitance embedded in his motion.

“I’ll be back,” Adrian assured him, cupping his face and touching Hector’s forehead with his own. “I promise.”

...

“So, long story short: it’s illegal,” Trevor muttered after several moments of silence processing what Adrian had told them. “He could have lied to you, you know, to garner your sympathy and whatnots.”

Of course Hector could have; Adrian wasn’t that big of a fool to not have considered that possibility. “I decided to trust him. At least what we saw between him and Carmilla was true.”

Trevor shrugged. “What to do now?”

“The normal way is to report so that they can make a case, investigate, bring it to court, et cetera. Then there’s the Ţepeş way: we spirit him away, bring him to my house and let my father’s subordinates deal with all the ensued lawsuit and paperwork.”

“It’s even more illegal,” Sypha commented. “I like it. I’m in.”

“‘m in too.”

Adrian smiled at his friend. “I have a plan. It’s pretty nuts, but it just might work.”

_TBC_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part II continues with Hector POV.
> 
> Hector is 19 and Isaac is 20.
> 
> Lisa is a vampire in this story and it was a turn-or-die situation due to some serious complications when she gave birth to Vlad Jr., but this isn’t very plot-relevant.


	2. Hector

The absence of the cool weight on his clavicles was unfamiliar to him.

Hector’s fingers caressed his exposed throat, where the skin was chafed by constant friction. The collar itself was a paradox: on the one hand, it wasn’t finely made — the inside wasn’t lined with velvet or some soft, pricey material like many collars he’d seen and touched, and the edges weren’t filed, leaving them rough and jagged, eager to bite into his skin. On the other hand, it had likely cost Carmilla a handsome sum because no cheap, mass-produced collar could be inscribed with Elochian script to make it a true collaring device; it had to be commissioned and then handmade from scratch. Years of being an unwilling apprentice in his father’s workshop instead of playing basketball or video games like every other kid had taught him such. He suspected it had been Carmilla’s purpose all along: the metal band was not so much a physical embodiment of partnership as a humiliating device, just like Hector, as well as many other pets before him, was not so much a human companion as a toy at her disposal. He reflected on how stupid he had been in those first days of captivity for clutching some flimsy hope that his mistress would be kind or at least reasonable, and couldn’t resist the urge to dig his fingernails into his chafed wounds.

The expected sting was familiar to him. It felt real while everything else from the second his eyes caught sight of Adrian to the deafening clang of metal hitting the floor felt like a dream. Hector had given up on dreams some time ago, when his dreams started turning into nightmares that left him shaken and fidgety and prone to make the very mistakes the varied punishments for which had caused his nightmares in the first place. Mistakes like letting his defiance surface when he was to play a mute, docile pet, or failing to give a proper response when required. It was a vicious circle which robbed him off the only luxury he was allowed in this prison: sleep. Having to stay awake until dawn while being allotted only a couple hours to doze at noon had already messed up his biological clock; to make matters worse, lately he often found himself staring at a specific spider web on the ceiling for hours on end for no obvious purpose than wasting his precious time. As a result of prolonged sleep deprivation, he began to lose touch with reality. Left alone in the tight, mostly furniture-less cube serving as his ‘room’, sometimes he spaced out for an unknown period, only to come back bewildered and uncertain who and where he was, whether it was day or night, and whether he was awake or it was just another dream. Whether he was real. It was like taking drugs except he was clean — had managed to stay clean even in those days on the streets. It confused him, scared him, forced him to question his own sanity, and the answer that he might be losing it shook him to the core. That was when he turned to pain.

Pain.

Hector was no stranger to pain. His earliest memory was a slap from his mother, who had been furious because—because of what he couldn’t remember. He had probably dirtied the floor with his messy eating or grated her nerves with his incessant wails. Typical toddler antics to drive their parents crazy. And his parents... well, his parents weren’t exactly the conventional type. His father had indulged him in his own eccentric way, by not giving a damn about whatever Hector did as long as it did not get in the way of his business. And his mother, one thing Hector was sure about her was that she had never wanted him. It’d been a mistake, she had reminded him again and again, had pounded it into his head until he believed it. He had grown up learning every detail of her hands by heart, how white her knuckles turned when she clenched her fist, how long she’d like to keep her nails, whether she’d like them blunt or sharp, what color she loved to paint them. Deep red. Same as the blood seeping from the shallow cuts on his cheeks, hands and forearms. Same as Carmilla’s nails. Like his mother, she too fancied red. Red lips, red nails, red flowing gowns, red heels. Unlike his mother, she liked to use her hands for one thing and one thing only: giving him long, neat cuts that were as aesthetically pleasing as geometric tattoos. An art connoisseur she considered herself: everything she touched had to be tasteful, even inflicting pain. Little did she know that her favorite method to put him in line was also what Hector turned to when he needed something tangible to ground himself in reality. It wasn’t pain that he relished, quite the opposite actually; still, it didn’t stop him from picking at the scabs on his wounds because only then was he reminded that a person called Hector was alive, and that he was real. If his wounds took longer to heal than they should, it was a slight disadvantage he could bear.

More than pain, what Hector couldn’t bear was being passed around like a cheap toy. Carmilla liked to consider herself magnanimous and when she got her hands on something ‘exquisite’, be it wines, clothes, cosmetics, accessories, shoes or pets, the rest of her gang should enjoy it also. First, he had been sent to Striga and Morana, whom he had soon learned to be a couple. It turned out to be a blessing because that meant they were too occupied with each other to spare him any interest. At best, he became a punching bag for Striga, who had to greatly restrain herself so as not to break a lent pet, and so he counted himself lucky to only acquire about a dozen bruises after a night spent at her den. Nothing broken or unfixable. At worst, he was subjected to Morana’s inventions because hearing screams and groans soothed her nerves, as he had discovered by overhearing her conversation with Striga. Like her lover, she too took precautions to not totally wreck him, and if his throat felt bloody raw and he missed one or two fingernails after a session with her, Hector would choose her over Lenore any day.

Lenore. Lenore was... something. During his first days at Carmilla’s mansion, Lenore had been his angel. His salvation. His light in a pitch-black tunnel. A kind-hearted, beautiful woman who had sneaked food to him when he starved in the basement for vexing Carmilla; who had draped a woolen cloth over his naked shoulders and even tended to his cuts and bruises. Once or twice she had even stood up to him in front of Carmilla, even if it had always earned him more ire from his mistress. Drunk on her intoxicating kindness, Hector had thought he might have fallen in love with her. Nonetheless, that was before he learned that Lenore’s good-heartedness had been all a facade, meticulously made up to be stripped down the moment he was alone with her in her room.

Meticulous. That was the word to describe Lenore. She was meticulous in her approaches to gain his trust and then peel off his guard, layer by layer. A game of cat and mouse where the cat subverted the mouse’s instincts and played with its head. She was meticulous in her methods to train him, pushing him until he had one foot in the air and one nudge was all it needed to tip him over the edge and fall into the chasm. Only then did she pull him back in by his proverbial and literal leash, pouring sweet nothings into his ears while laying his head on her laps and stroking his hair with dainty fingers. The same fingers gifting him with scars that couldn’t be seen. All of the sisters were architects of his terrors, but none of the other three terrified him the way Lenore did. The more time he spent with her, the more fragmented he became until he feared he couldn’t be put back together and would eventually turn into a mindless meat doll he suspected to have been her purpose all along. She would then ask Carmilla to give him to her permanently and Carmilla, generous big sister that she was, wouldn’t think twice about an already broken toy. She had told him such while having him kneel at the foot of her bed, and the glee in her tone had injected poison into his veins.

The tips of his fingers were warm and wet when Hector removed his hand from the wounds on his throat. Warm and wet like Lenore’s tongue as she took his finger into her mouth, sucking lightly at the pad before nipping at his skin with her fangs in a silent, chilling reminder that she could bite it clean if she so wished. The ring finger on his left hand was her favorite, and it was shown by the scar in the shape of her teeth. Watching him clutch the bloodied finger to his chest, she had leaned in and whispered into his ear, “Looks like a ring, doesn’t it? Perhaps I should get us a pair — Carmilla’s reaction would be quite hilarious if she saw our matching rings, I bet. But for now that will have to do.”

Alone in the dark room populated by the vampires’ pets, he was hearing Lenore’s voice now. _What are you thinking, Hector dear?_ she taunted, her girly giggles ringing like wind chimes, drowning all sounds from the pets. _You honestly believe that pretty boy will save you from this hole? You the damsel in distress and he the Prince Charming coming to your rescue? He certainly looks the part, I give him that._

 _Shut up_ , Hector thought, fingers curling and spasming.

She did not. _How naive and dumb can you be? I thought I’d trained you better than that. Do you really think he wants you?_

 _Shut up._ Memories surged in his mind, reminding him how close they had been sitting, their legs touching; how close their faces had been, close enough to feel the other’s breath, to touch the other’s lips with their own; and how close their hearts had been, pouring the truths out to each other despite all those months of separation.

 _You lie, Lenore_ , Hector thought, shaking his head. _Nothing but lies._

_Am I? Let’s not kid ourselves. Have you looked in the mirror lately, Hector? Do you think he would want you if he saw what’s on your body? What you did to yourself?_

_Shut up. **Shut up.**_

_He’s whole, he’s loved and he’s perfect in every sense while you’re broken, jagged around the edges. He’d be disgusted. Even Carmilla has begun to grow tired of you. Only I am willing to embrace you in spite of your splinters. I make you whole. I make you feel loved._

“Shut up!”

“Who are you talking to, Hector?”

Adrian’s voice cut through his muddled mind like a razor blade, silencing Lenore and shoving her to a deep corner. Hector blinked rapidly, and although he could see nothing in this pitch-blackness, he was able to feel Adrian’s presence like a warm spot in a cold, damp cave. He forced a small smile on his lips in spite of the thunders in his chest.

 _He came back for you. He didn’t abandon you_ , a voice said in his head. Hector refused to give it a name yet.

“No one in particular,” he lied. “I think I just dozed off so that must have been sleep-talking.”

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” Adrian said, taking Hector’s hand in his. “Wait, are you injured somewhere because I smell blood?”

The concern note in Adrian’s voice made his heart skip a beat. Hector’s hand, sticky with congealed blood, instantly went to cover his throat. “Just chafes where the collar bit into my skin, nothing serious.”

Soon as he finished Hector felt his hand gently pried off and then soft and cool fabric dabbing at his inflamed wounds. Right, always trust a vampire’s sense to find the blood. A strong lemony cologne wafted in front of his nose.

“If we’re lucky and fast, those vampires out there won’t pick up the scent of your blood.”

“Sorry to dirty your handkerchief.”

“What are you talking about?” Adrian chided, not harshly, as he cleaned the blood on Hector’s finger. “I want to know why you even have blood on your hand but right now is not the time. Let’s get out of this place first.”

Hector heard the rustle of fabric before his hand was once again in Adrian’s. He heard the werewolf’s whimper somewhere in a dark corner and felt a tiny pang of guilt for having completely forgotten its existence.

“I didn’t ask how you got into this room.”

“I turned into a bat and squeezed myself in through cracks,” Adrian replied, his voice followed by a dry cracking sound and a clang. “Hah, there goes the lock.”

“Wouldn’t turning into mist be easier?”

“I hate that airy feel when doing that. By the way, you should shield your eyes against the light in the corridor,” he warned, pushing the door.

Hector did as he was told and after a few seconds, he lowered his arm and gingerly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly to adjust to the yellow light in the corridor.

He turned his head to his left and really saw Adrian for the first time.

Hair like the sun he’d so missed spun into fine threads, marmoreal skin and eyes of liquid gold indicating his vampiric heritage, the boy by his side was every bit breathtaking as his recollections. When Hector first saw him, a lifetime ago, the Adrian that was leaning against the rail and illuminated by the porch lights reminded him of the angels on stained glass. And now, like an angel, he was going to lift Hector out of this pit of vipers and fly him to the world of freedom. It was too good to be true. Was he in a dream? No, he had given up on dreams. It had to be another nightmare and any moment the floor would open like a monster’s jaws to swallow him whole and then he would be in his windowless cell again, lying restlessly on his flat mattress in waiting for Carmilla’s summon. Would it be Striga’s fist or Lenore’s poisoned honey? The thought of Lenore’s plump lips kissing his throat sucked all the air from his lungs. Adrian’s face blurred and blurred until his features dissolved like watercolor. His shoulders heaved and his knees buckled.

Strong hands caught Hector by his shoulders and shook him. “Hector, are you alright?” Adrian said in hurried tone. “You’re awfully still and I can’t hear you breathe and your heart is beating too fast.”

“I... it’s just anxiety. I’m not used to walking without a leash.”

Lie again. Hector’s palm was slick with sweat but Adrian just tightened his grip, to the point of pain. The young man found himself welcoming it. He desperately needed an anchor to keep himself from drifting away.

“Let’s go.”

The closer they got to the ballroom, the noisier it got. It seemed there was some sort of commotion going on because he picked up a few shouts emerging from the sea of indistinct chatters.

“What’s going on?”

“Distraction” came Adrian’s terse reply. They took a left turn and hurried down a larger, more adorned corridor. Hector’s eyes darted from left to right, anxiously awaiting a hand with painted claws to shoot out and snatch him.

“Sir.”

Hector’s heart jumped at the voice and a flash of gray uniform. Before he had a chance to properly panic, Hector was slammed into the wall. One hand cradled his skull to cushion the impact and the other was splayed across the small of his back, and any half-formed groan was swallowed by cool lips pressed against his own. He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling the lemony cologne, and tried not to squirm under Adrian’s body after the initial shock. Whatever he was doing, the young dhampir had to have his reason; Hector trusted he wasn’t the type to assault his friend out of the blue.

His body stiffened nonetheless.

“Sir... I’m afraid your companions are making quite a scene in the ballroom.”

This voice! Hector recognized this voice with a distinguished Southern accent. It belonged to the young vampire who had stopped Carmilla at the entrance when she came in with Hector.

Cool lips parted from his mouth and Hector sucked in a small breath through his teeth in an attempt to calm his racing heart. “Don’t you see I’m busy?” Adrian growled. He did not lift his head, letting his hair fall like a curtain and hide Hector’s face from the vampire’s sight.

“But sir—”

“Leave!” Adrian’s commanded, his timbre sliding towards the inhuman spectrum. Hector imagined he had fanged out and couldn’t help a shiver. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

The young vampire was immediately cowed. “Yes, sir!”

A weight was lifted off his heart as the same time the physical weight pinning him into the wall disappeared. Hector almost lamented the loss. Worrying his lips, he looked up to Adrian’s flushed face.

“I’m sorry,” Adrian breathed.

Unsure of how he should reply, Hector kept his mouth shut in fear of saying the wrong thing. Adrian had probably misinterpreted his silence as humiliation and anger, so he averted his gaze. “I’ll give you a proper apology later, but first we have to get out of here,” he said in low voice. “The distraction won’t distract them for too long.”

His remorseful tone and downcast eyes prodded at Hector’s heart. He frowned, liking neither this discomfort in his chest nor its cause. Surely the kiss had taken him by surprise but Hector was by no means offended; though sudden and quite unconventional, it had proven effective in chasing away the vampire who could have foiled his only chance of escape. He let out a huff, hating that they had no time for him to explain to Adrian, and laced his fingers with his. The young dhampir’s countenance brightened at the gesture. “This way,” he said, resuming their pace.

His thin, sweat-damp shirt provided little warmth against the chilling air outside and goosebumps raised on every inch of his skin, covered or exposed. Hector couldn’t bring himself to care either about the cold or the sting inside his nostrils as he breathed in the crisp air that smelled faintly of the grass under his soles. How heavenly it was to fill his lungs with something other than the stagnant perfumed air pervading every nook and canny of Carmilla’s mansion. Noises from the vampire affairs inside faded, replaced by the chirps of insects and the distant rumbles of vehicles. The sky overhead was cloudy, the moons and stars hidden from view but to Hector, it was the most alluring night sky he had seen in a long while because there was no collar on his neck and no cruel mistress to yank his leash and tell him to keep his head low and behave.

The two of them threaded their way through a maze of luxury cars until they reached a limousine. Adrian knocked on the window and the tinted window rolled down, revealing a gaunt, pale face in the driver’s seat. The thin eyebrows knitted as a pair of slanting eyes gave Hector a once-over. “Who is this, Young Master?” he asked in a monotone, showing a hint of fangs.

“This is my friend. I’m going inside to fetch the other two and in that time, do not let anyone open the door and take him, OK? Do not let any harm come to him.”

“Understood.”

Opening the car door, Adrian turned to Hector. “I’m going to get my friends. Don’t get out of the limo. I’ll be back shortly. Meanwhile Sebastian will keep you safe.”

Hector sneaked a peek at the driver and mutely nodded, suppressing a surge of doubt for those with fangs other than Adrian. He climbed into the limo and sat down in the middle, away from the windows on both sides. Adrian closed the door and the window rolled up.

Hector sat perfectly still, not daring to turn on the light. The inside was feebly lit by a nearby garden lamp post and was utterly quiet — no radio, no music, no rustle of fabric or any sounds indicating movement. It was as if Sebastian was a specter in the driver’s seat. Hector did not find it too bizarre; vampires only allowed you to hear them when they wanted to be heard. He closed his eyes and began to count, gradually slipping into a trance-like state where his mental voice was the only thing in his mind.

He couldn’t tell how much time had passed when there were a series of knocks on the window, breaking his peaceful trance and plunging him into minor panic. Hector looked around the confined space, searching in vain for a place to hide in case the knocking came from Carmilla. Relief flooded him when the door was opened and he saw a blond head. Adrian climbed into the seat next to him, followed by his two friends who took the opposite seats. He switched on the light and order Sebastian to start the engine. Hector scooted over to the far left, almost flattening himself against the window.

“Hector, these are my friends,” Adrian spoke once the vehicle began moving. He gestured to the young woman with strawberry blonde hair and electric blue eyes. “This is Sypha.”

Sypha beamed at him, unconsciously flashing her pearly fangs. “I’m Sypha. The situation could have been better but nice to meet you,” she said, offering her hand. “You’re Hector, aren’t you?”

Hector scanned his right hand for any trace of blood before shyly taking her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“And this Trevor,” Adrian introduced with a jerk of his thumb toward the young man beside Sypha, who was loosening his tie with one hand and rubbing his cheek with the other. “Yeah, nice to meet you, I guess.”

“Is something wrong with your cheek?” Hector asked.

“Her hand met my face is what happened.”

Hector’s gaze strayed to Sypha’s hands folding on her laps. She had pretty hands with manicured fingers, just like Lenore’s. Hector knew better than to judge their strength based on their delicate look.

“I’m sorry,” Sypha pled, clasping her hands together. “But you gotta admit it was the perfect climax to our little act.”

Adrian stifled a laugh and opened the minibar, tossing a soda can at Trevor, who caught it and rubbed it again his cheek.

“It was totally unscripted and I dare say you got carried away with it.” He opened the can and drank from it.

“I improvised, yes, but it seemed natural to get a little physical in the heat of a fight. Did you see their faces? Totally bought it.”

“Thanks to that now the three of us may be banned for the next century.”

Adrian laughed. “No, we may not, though I wouldn’t mind if we were. The Ţepeş name is too heavy for them to ban any of us from their future events. But really, Trevor, you don’t find this sort of affair distasteful?”

“At least the food was superb, like you said.”

Hector, who had remained a passive listener, turned to Adrian. “I’m sorry but what are you talking about? Why may you be banned?” A hesitant pause. “Did they find out about... me?”

“No, they didn’t,” Adrian replied, eyes soft. “Remember the distraction I told you? It was Sypha and Trevor’s act to attract the guests and staff’s attention so that we could get out of the building.”

“Lover’s quarrel, the classic,” Sypha cheerfully chimed in. “Everyone loves a little drama.”

“So when that vampire found us...” Hector trailed off, feeling heat flooding beneath the skin of his face. He resisted the urge to lick his chapped lips.

“Yeah, he was trying to find and get me into the ballroom to deal with Sypha and Trevor.”

“Ten bucks you sent the poor fellow running with your deep Dracula’s voice and game face,” Trevor said, smirking.

Adrian shrugged.

“Speaking of game face,” Sypha said, pointing a finger at her mouth, “it’s about time we put away these ‘cosmetics’.”

Stroking his smooth chin, Trevor studied his reflection in the window pane. “I kinda want to keep these cute little things for a while, you know, to see how Simon and Richter will freak out.”

“I don’t know much about Simon but I bet Richter will snatch the Morning Star and give you a good old whipping,” Adrian said.

“Simon will choke me with the Morning Star, after he jams all these vials of holy water down my throat like Conan the Barbarian. On second thought, that’s probably a terrible idea.”

Hector seemed to be the only one whose eyes widened at Trevor’s violent description while Sypha and Adrian did not so much as bat an eye.

“Trevor’s brothers,” Sypha explained. “They’re the Belmonts.”

“The famed vampire-killing clan?”

“You know them, Hector?” Adrian asked.

“Mis—Carmilla mentioned them a few times around the dinner table.”

While he was chained to a pillar and occasionally had her scraps thrown at him. This, he would not share with Adrian and the rest.

“Monster hunting is a thing of the past,” Trevor said, draining the soda can. “But Belmont boys and girls still practice the old way just in case.”

“Or for fun,” Sypha casually chimed in, raising her hand, which was enveloped in soft blue glow. At the snap of her fingers, blinding light engulfed the place for a second before vanishing. The changes were instantly visible: the long, pointed ears were replaced with human ones and their skin shed the deathlike pallor to regain the healthy, slightly tanned complexion.

“Incredible,” Hector exclaimed, somewhat breathless. “Are you a magician?”

“Thanks,” Sypha replied, checking herself in a compact mirror she took out from her purse. “Like the Belmonts, us Speakers also practice the old way just in case.”

“Or for shits and giggles.”

“And for convenience too,” Sypha continued, unoffended by Trevor’s words. “We couldn’t have attended the fancy vampire-exclusive party without the glamor spell.”

“Why did you and Trevor attend a vampire event?”

“I’ve always been curious about the vampire culture and this party provided a perfect glimpse into it.”

“I heard there would be food and booze.”

With that, Trevor earned a playful elbow from Sypha. He mock-groaned, making Adrian chuckle.

Must be nice to have friends who you could laugh with, Hector looked at the three of them and got an unexpected pang of envy. Instantly shame followed; how could he envy their friendship when they had risked their own safety to save him?

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to enjoy the party,” Hector said ruefully. He meant it.

Sypha’s brows pinched and it looked like she wanted to offer him her sympathy with a pat on his shoulder but in the end thought better of it, unsure if her touch would be welcomed.

Hector appreciated her thoughtfulness.

“Actually it was the most fun party I’ve been to,” Sypha said with a small, reassuring smile. “It’s not very often we get to enjoy exquisite food, make a ruckus, _and_ get away with it. Right, Trevor?”

“Yeah, sure,” Trevor agreed, scratching his head and looking somewhat bashful. “We had fun and we got to smuggle someone out of an evil vampire’s claw. Sounds like a movie to me.”

“They make excellent partners in crime,” Adrian quipped and the three of them laughed.

Warmth tingled under Hector’s skin, raising goosebumps, but they were the good kind of goosebumps. “Thank you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

They heard it just fine.

...

Isaac looked far too intimidating for the picture Adrian had painted but at the same time inextricably, perfectly matched Hector’s mental image of him: the badass nerd none in their right mind should mess with because he could kungfu-kick them to the ground faster than they could utter Jesus’s name and then insult them in perfect Latin.

Hector had learned beforehand that the fabled Castlevania was huge, but to witness it with his eyes was a different experience altogether. Carmilla’s mansion, which he’d initially thought to be a castle, simply couldn’t compare.

Isaac approached them while Hector was marveling at the intricate carvings on the huge pillars, his footsteps so light they were almost nonexistent. “Home so soon, brother?” he asked, eyes zeroing on a startled Hector by Adrian’s side. “It’s barely midnight.”

“We were kicked out before the party was over,” Adrian answered with a shrug. “Not that it bothered me; the party was a bore. Where’s Junior?”

“Tucked in and soundly asleep. I see you bought a guest home. How about going upstairs and updating me on tonight’s events?”

“Don’t you have to study for your exam?”

“Because Junior was an angel, I was able to finish everything before you returned.”

Hector witnessed Adrian’s expression sour and briefly wondered why.

“It’s so unfair when he’s an angel to you but a devil to me,” Adrian muttered.

It was Adrian’s room the three of them entered and it was huge! The space was larger than his parents’ apartment and fully furnished with a four-poster bed (Hector rolled his eyes), an ornate desk with chair in a corner, a fireplace with a few armchairs scattered in front and a fully stocked bookcase that reached the ceiling. The burgundy carpeted floor muffled their footsteps as Adrian guided him to the bed. They both sat down, Hector showing some hesitance, whereas Isaac leaned against the wall. Hector imagined it couldn’t be super comfortable standing like he was but Isaac’s stoic face gave nothing away.

He maintained that posture throughout Adrian’s summary of tonight’s event, which left out a few irrelevant details like the kiss-to-flee situation.

“You do realize what you did was pretty illegal, don’t you, brother?” Isaac asked at the end of the story. “Kidnapping a highborn vampire’s pet is not joking matter. If Carmilla finds out she can file a lawsuit.”

Hector’s chest throbbed and he looked sideways at Adrian, who appeared unfazed by the grim prospect. “I’m 17,” he said with nonchalance. “By either human or vampire law, she can’t press charge against me.”

“Playing the minor card will only get you a fine and a warning at best and a few lines in your records at worst but what about him?” His calm russet eyes bored into Hector’s as he spoke.

“If I says that I willingly went with him, Carmilla can’t sue him for kidnapping, can she?”

“Then you will be the one in trouble. You will be retrieved by your mistress, and by law she is allowed to mete out any form of discipline as she sees fit.”

Hector’s hands balled into fists on the satin duvet. He was right. It was too good to be true. It was time to burst his rose-tinted bubble.

“So what you were saying is I did something rash and stupid which is likely to bite us both in the ass?”

“From an average law student’s point of view, yes, but as your brother, I have to say it was the rightest thing you’ve done and I’m swelling with pride for you.”

Again, Isaac’s expression and even tone didn’t reveal whether he meant it or not.

“But you’re never an average student so Mr. Top-of-the-Honor-Roll, may I seek your wise counsel on this matter?”

Adrian’s overly formal phrasing put a small smile on Hector’s face despite his sunken mood.

“Would you care for a crash course in the pet owning matter, brother?”

“Please make it short. I have no intention to ever own a human pet or to become a law student.”

“Thought you’d say that. Basically there are two essential elements in solidifying ownership: one is a legalized and signed contract and the other is the claim mark _plus_ the first drink. Hector, did you sign any contract at the beginning?”

“No, I—Yes, when I came for their ‘job interview’, they had me sign a work contract. It looked normal, for the most part, only the shifts were a bit unconventional. After I was sent to Carmilla’s place, I never saw it again, nor did I sign another contract.”

“Was there any witness, and I mean legitimate, impartial witness?”

“There were only those ‘agents’.”

“Shady as fuck,” Adrian remarked.

“Language, Adrian. You know Father isn’t very pleased when you use the four-letter word.”

“Too bad I’m not antique,” Adrian said, sticking his tongue out at Isaac, who ignored his petulance and continued, “I agree that sounded illegal. We could use that to our advantage in order to build a case.”

“ _We_?”

“Our legal team consisting of hardworking, ingenious and esteemed lawyers you often reduce to just ‘Dad’s subordinates’.”

“Which they essentially are. I’m going to give Dad a call and claim my IOU. What time is it now in Rio?”

“You can Google it later. Now, for the second element: did Carmilla mark you and have a sip of your blood in front of legitimate witnesses?”

“No.”

Isaac and Adrian both looked at him. “She didn’t?” Adrian asked.

“Carmilla has never drunk from me.”

Come to think of it, none of her sisters had taken his blood, even Lenore, who was fond of marking him.

Isaac stood next to him and leaned in for a closer look at Hector’s neck. Though anxious, Hector endured his scrutiny.

“The claim mark should be on either of your carotid arteries but you have none, which is strange,” Isaac said. “You were wearing a collar, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” Hector replied, feeling the phantom weight and coldness of the metal band. “Carmilla put it on me just a few days after I arrived. She’d never taken it off since.”

“The marks on his skin suggest the collar covered most of his neck. Did it?”

Adrian wordlessly confirmed with a nod.

“I suspect it served another purpose than simply collaring, which is—”

“Preventing vampires from sinking their teeth into Hector’s neck,” Adrian finished the sentence. “It’s impossible to chomp through enchanted metal.”

Hector smiled although there was no mirth in his eyes. “I suppose I should have been grateful to Carmilla for her thoughtfulness.”

“She was certainly thorough in making sure no one could claim you — pardon the word — when she hadn’t herself,” Isaac said. “I wonder what had hindered her.”

“When I first arrived, I was cut so that Carmilla could sample my blood. I overheard her telling her sisters that my blood was pungent and indigestible. I believe the exact words were it ‘tasted like death, if death had a taste’.” Hector snorted. “It was rich coming from a vampire. No offense.”

“None taken,” Adrian replied.

Isaac’s defined brows furrowed. “Can I ask you something?”

Hector’s instinct was to be on defense. “Uhm... yes,” he hesitated, prepared to lie should Isaac’s query be something he wasn’t ready to share with anyone, not even Adrian.

“Have you ever resurrected a dead animal?” Isaac measured his words.

“I...” he trailed off, caught off guard. Memories of his mother’s hand and words flooded his mind. “I don’t quite understand your question.”

Isaac didn’t seem to buy it. “Do you? Have you ever touched a dead animal and felt something like a tingle of a buzz at your fingertips? An inexplicable urge to alter its state?”

“What are you trying to ask, Isaac?”

“I’m trying to find out if Hector is like me,” he replied. “Someone with innate necromantic properties, or a Forgemaster, a term Father coined.”

His blunt words prompted two different reactions from the other two: a gasp from Adrian and a look of utter confusion plastered all over Hector’s face.

“Are you sure?”

“Necromantic properties?”

They spoke at the same time.

“Abilities to raise the dead and such,” Isaac explained. “That was why I asked about dead animals. And no, I’m not sure, brother; I’m trying to find out.”

“Why do you think I’m... like you, a-a...”

“Forgemaster. Due to its unique particles, Forgemaster’s blood is indigestible and, to quote a certain someone, is ‘the worst offense on a vampire’s tastebud’.”

“That was me,” Adrian said. “We were younger and were fooling around. Never again.” He punctuated with a visible shudder.

Hector raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Can you give me your hand?” Isaac asked.

Hector looked to Adrian, who gave a small, assuring nod, before tentatively holding out his right hand. His sleeve slid down his wrist, laying Carmilla’s handiwork bare under the fluorescent light. Only when the silence became too awkward did Hector realize what had caused it. He pulled at his sleeve, shame and fear gnawing his guts.

“Did Car—”

Isaac raised his hand and Adrian immediately clammed up. He held Hector’s hand in a firm grip and it began to warm up where their skins came in contact while red flame outlined his dark skin like a glove. Hector inhaled sharply, not due to the burn but rather the lack of it. There was a sizzle, which grew louder as blue sparks danced on his skin, growing in frequency and intensity with each second until they culminated in a flare. Blue flame rose from his hand, mixing with Isaac’s red to produce a mesmerizing purple that illuminated their countenances.

The magic show came to an abrupt end when Isaac withdrew his hand. “That confirms it,” he said to a dazed-looking Hector. “Father’s going to be quite fascinated when he learns that you snatched a Forgemaster from Carmilla’s hand.” He smiled thinly. “That harpy’s going to be so pissed when she finds out what she lost.”

“Even if Hector had been a regular human, I wouldn’t have stood by and watched Carmilla hurt him.”

“Of course, Mom wouldn’t have, either,” Isaac said and his gaze softened when it landed on Hector. “I have a book about Forgemasters which you may find useful. Adrian can come and fetch it after he gets you a room.”

“I-I can stay here?”

“Do you have any other place you want to go?”

“No, I don’t.” His parents’ home was no longer his home and the only place that accepted him was Lisa’s shelter.

“That settles then,” Isaac concluded. “If you call Father now, he’ll probably send his lawyers by tomorrow’s evening.”

“Thank you,” Hector said. He meant it from the bottom of his heart.

...

Hector was drying his hair with a towel, having just come out of a shower, when he heard knockings on his door. Adrian stood in front of his room, having changed out of his tux and into a cotton T-shirt and sweatpants. He was carrying a thick, leather-bound book in one hand and a tray in the other.

“I’m sorry you have to wear my clothes,” Adrian apologized as soon as he set the tray down on the nightstand. “Tomorrow we will get you some new clothes.”

Hector briefly looked down at his similar gray cotton tee and black sweatpants. “They’re very comfortable, really. What I wouldn’t give to get out of those clothes Carmilla put on me.”

“I brought you a sandwich and some warm milk. You must be hungry.”

That he was used to hunger was at the tip of his tongue but Hector swallowed it in. “Thanks, Adrian,” he said instead, fingers carefully unwrapping the plastic film. “Did you make the sandwich?”

Adrian smiled. “Isaac did. Just another bullet point in his unending list of capabilities. He also asked me to give you this book and if you have any question about the content, feel free to ask him when he’s at home.”

Hector read the embossed letters on the cover. “Remind me to thank him tomorrow and to... apologize for having lied earlier.”

“You did?”

“I played dumb when he asked me about resurrecting dead animals. The truth is I started bringing back dead animals when I was about nine. It was a stray tabby cat killed by the cruel kids in my neighborhood. As I knelt by its corpse and cried, it just occurred to me that I could bring it back and, well, I did. The magic — I guess that’s what it’s called — came naturally.”

“Wow,” Adrian exclaimed. “You could do that when you were nine? That was so young! What happened to the cat though?”

Despite his grumbling stomach and the appetizing aroma of melted cheese and grilled ham, Hector had lost his appetite once the incident played out in his mind like a fast-forwarded montage. He put down the sandwich and took a mouthful from the glass, hoping the warm milk would wash off the bitter taste on his tongue.

“My mother threw it from the balcony and it didn’t land on its feet,” he said, nursing the glass. “I learned that I couldn’t bring an animal back twice.”

The smile vanished from Adrian’s face as a frown was etched between his delicate eyebrows. “That was horrible.”

“Yes, that was what she told me — horrible things people would have done to me if they had found out what I could do. Maybe she was right. I can’t even imagine what Carmilla would have done.”

“I’m not surprised if she would have had you create an army of demons for her to take over this country and make herself president or something.”

“I-I could make demons?”

“Theoretically, yes,” Adrian said, flipping the pages. “Here, on page 74. Although it’s unadvised because of the law and stuff. Page 183. My dad helped write it even before Isaac came to live with us, to prevent those like Carmilla from taking advantage of Forgemasters like yourself.”

“Your father,” Hector said, recalling the bits he’d learned about Lord Vlad Ţepeş aka Dracula, “would he get mad because I got his son into this mess?”

“You did.not get me into this mess,” Adrian said firmly, blazing golden eyes bringing to Hector’s mind the image of an alpha wolf. “I don’t know what made you think so but let me make it clear: I did it all on my own accord. If you think because I’m only 17 so I don’t know any better, you’re making a big mistake of underestimating me.”

“I’m not underestimating you,” Hector said, trying to determine whether the cold sweat running down his spine was from fear or thrill. “Why did you help me? It’s not that I’m not grateful but it’s just...”

_Too risky. Not worth it._

“If the situation was reversed and I was the one captured and you could help me, would you?”

“Of course I would.”

Adrian did not reply but the look he gave him was worth a hundred words.

“I could have lied to you about being captured. I could have willingly signed myself off to be her pet and when I got unhappy with my situation, I bailed.”

“You could, but I got a glimpse of how she treated you,” Adrian said, taking both of Hector’s wrists. “And these, these are not lies. Carmilla did horrible things to you and once my parents return, they won’t let her get off easily, especially my mom. She adores you, you know.”

“It’s not just Carmilla,” Hector mumbled, eyes flickering to the teeth mark on his ring finger.

“Look, I won’t pretend to understand what you’ve been through but if you ever want to talk about it, I’m willing to listen.”

Tears pricked hotly at the rims of his eyes and it took all Hector’s will not to let them fall. “Thank you,” he said, voice heavy with unshed tears.

“I just spoke with my dad on the phone, told him everything and he said tomorrow the lawyers will come and they will ask you questions.” A brief pause. “Also, they will request a medical examination to assess the damage if we are to make sure Carmilla’s claim on you is annulled and she can never lay a hand on you again. Are you OK with that?”

“... Yes, I’m OK with that.”

“Do you... want me to be there with you?”

Hector considered his offer for several moments before shaking his head. “I think I can handle it.”

Too soon. There would be a day when he was ready to tell Adrian; that day, however, wasn’t tomorrow.

“Alright,” Adrian said, somewhat deflated. “Oh, one thing before we should both go to bed because it’s pretty late. I want to apologize for-for the earlier incident when we left the party. It was the only thing that came to my mind. No, it doesn’t mean that way. Sorry if that sounds weird.”

As he was saying, pink dusted his cheeks, the color made all the more prominent by his alabaster skin. Hector’s heart fluttered at the sight, pumping courage into his veins for something he wouldn’t normally dare. He seized Adrian’s face in both hands and planted a soft kiss on his pale lips.

“Now we’re even,” Hector breathed after breaking the short kiss, face still inches away from Adrian’s. The blood rushing to his head was making him dizzy.

“You’re... OK with this?... With us?”

Hector nodded and the next thing he knew was Adrian’s lips on his own. One of his hand cradled the back of Hector’s head in reminiscence of the earlier act, although this time it served to deepen the kiss rather than protecting his skull. Out of mutual understanding they kept it chaste, as there would be plenty of time and chance to explore other options, but Hector swore he could feel the ghost of Adrian’s tongue on his lips.

He didn’t mind it one bit.

When it ended, Adrian wasn’t the only one with flushed skin.

“I-I should go,” Adrian stammered, rising to his feet. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Hector replied, even though he wished for Adrian to stay a little longer. With his messed up biological clock, he was likely to have another sleepless night.

Standing by the door, Adrian turned to him. “You’re safe here,” he reassured him before disappearing from his sight.

Hector wanted nothing more than to believe it.

_End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended to write a funny story and I think I accomplished it in the first chapter; it was much fun writing the dialogues between the characters. However, the angst slipped in and before I was aware, it took over most of the second chapter. I guess at this point it’s impossible for me to write a Hectorcard fanfic without at least a spoonful of angst.


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